Shingeki no Anthology
by Hexametaphosphate
Summary: All the passions are nothing else than different degrees of heat and cold of the blood. — François de La Rochefoucauld, Premier Supplement, VIII. / Various one-shots and short lived stories.
1. Study Break

**Study Break**

**—x—**

_Oh, swing the door wide open; show me your jaded eyes._

_I will turn them red, drunk with vivid flame._

_You will see again, and you will learn your real name._

**—x—**

Winter came fast. It swept across the city with a chill that sunk into bones vainly covered in wool coats and scarves. The dull grey landscape became white in a steady snow fall, saturating the patches of green in the process, until everything became one perfect image of alabaster. It covered the city while its inhabitants continued on with their lives, seemingly too busy to give it more than a moment's thought. Their footsteps carried them onwards, to work or school or some social gathering of sorts, foot prints and cigarette butts the only proof that they had even been witnesses to its coming. November was at its end and December swept in like a thief.

"Hey, Jean," a voice calls out softly. It stirs me out of my thoughts and I'm no longer staring out the window; I find myself staring at its owner situated across from me. His face is all aglow with a soft smile, his warm brown eyes matching the expression. It makes me smile too. "I misplaced my notes for Smith's class. Can I borrow yours?"

"Yeah, sure. Hold on."

His gaze flicks down after another moment, focusing on the task at hand once more. I do the same, searching through a binder until I find what he's asked for. "This should be the whole semester," I tell him as I pull the papers out and hand them across the table. He gives me that smile again and this time it conveys gratitude alongside his fondness, voices his thanks, and returns to his work. I rest my cheek against the palm of my hand and watch as his fingers grasp his pen once more to scribble more notes down, preparing for finals next week. His devotion to his studies is apparent; his resolve to succeed and graduate never cease to impress me. It inspires me to do my best, though all I seem to be capable of doing today is daydreaming. The thought brings me back to staring out the window, the blanket of snow covering the grounds growing thicker by the minute. All I've done this week is study with Marco.

_With Marco._

A smile involuntarily forms on my lips. I steal a glance at the boy before me, hard at work to absorb all the information taught to us these past few months. Our degrees have led us down separate paths but we share a few classes. It never seems like enough though, and this time we've spent together cramming for finals has been far more enjoyable than it would have been with anyone else. But if I'm being completely honest, it's a bit harder to concentrate on studies in his presence. Combine that with the flurry burying this city and I'm truly useless as a student.

"Hey, Marco." The words leave my lips before my thoughts have finished; I hear his pen settle, a soft rustle of papers, and know that he's staring at me. "Let's take a break. We've been doing this all week and I'm starting to get too restless to concentrate." I turn to face him, half expecting a serious look to be on his face while he ponders the idea, but when our eyes meet I see a spark of relief come to life in his eyes.

"You've been eyeing the snow all afternoon," he notes aloud, gathering his assortment of books and papers to carry back to our dorm. "That's what this is really about, isn't it?"

"Don't tell me you haven't been thinking it too."

_Don't tell me I'm the only one who feels this way. Marco..._

He laughs at me, standing from his chair. "Of course I am. I'm not used to this whole 'being an adult' thing anyways." He pulls the small stack of items into his arms, bearing them against his chest securely and looking down at me expectantly. I have to expend a bit of effort to pry my eyes from the expression on his freckled features, piling the few items I'd brought with me and carrying them at my side as we leave the study lounge and head down the hall. He walks ahead of me, a spring in his step; his determination to study was far greater than mine but his eyes must have craved to look out the window just as badly as mine.

**—x—**

"Missed me!"

Marco's laughter echoes out across the courtyard. He's taken refuge behind the large oak near the fountain, hiding from Reiner's assault. Behind him, Bertholdt stalks forward from one bush to another, and then to a barricade of snow Annie had built. Instead of warning him, Connie and I spring forth our own attack. "For free hot chocolate!" he cries out as we charge forward. By the time our prey look in our direction it's too late; we've taken over their snow ball reserve and have forced them out of their base, using their own ammunition to disperse them. Somewhere across the fountain Reiner's disappointment is let out.

"No! Bert, Annie! My comrades!" He rushes towards his 'fallen' brother and sister of snow warfare, dropping to his knees in a dramatic fashion as his arms stretch towards the heavens. We advance on him, Marco coming quickly to join us, armed with a handful of snow. Reiner gives us his attention, trying his best not to let his grin take hold just yet. "May the chocolate burn the tips of your tongues!" he curses us. Laughter erupts once more as we hit him with a barrage of snow.

After a handful of taunts and final wave of attacks we retreat to the student union, snagging a table by the windows. Connie excuses himself and heads for the bathroom while the others move to join the line for the cafe; Marco and I stay behind. I silently revel in our moment alone. Having spent the last four hours with everyone, the intimacy of being by ourselves— if even just for a few minutes, is refreshing. He interrupts my thoughts as he settles in his chair finally after shedding his coat, leaning towards me in a collapsing fashion. I lay my arm across his shoulders and his head rests against mine, a sigh falling from his lips.

"It's Saturday," he says. "One more day, and then we have finals. I don't know if I'm ready."

I chuckle softly, see his head shift in response from the corner of my eye. "You study so intensely, I don't think it's possible for you to fail any of your exams. Even if you did nothing but laze around all day tomorrow, you'd still pass with flying colors, Marco." This time his head raises until he's sitting up straight, allowing me to look him in the eye. "In fact, that's what you're going to do tomorrow. I'm enforcing a mandatory break from studying."

"Wha—? But I have a cal—"

I move in my chair to face him, cupping his face with my hands; he attempts to stutter out the rest of his sentence a moment more, freckled cheeks flushing a shade of red past the one the cold air had already caused. I grin at how flustered he is by the action and can't help but gaze at his lips, wonder how soft they might feel against my own until I catch myself drawing closer. "No more studying tonight either," I breathe, stopping myself just a meager inch before contact.

_I could easily close this distance. I know he's holding his breath, waiting for it. He's not stopping me, I could do it..._

But I've wasted my time. I let go of Marco and pull back just as Connie appears, taking his seat next to me, already halfway into his first story for the evening. Reiner and Bert return with our drinks, Annie trailing and bringing pastries to go along with them. I ease into the conversation quickly, but Marco is still that shade of red, still flustered. It takes him a moment or two and Connie calling his name to draw him out of it.

_He wanted it, right? That's what it means... right?_

**—x—**

Ten o'clock rolls around before we know it. Once we've hugged and said our goodbyes on the steps of the union the silent night hugs its chilled arms around Marco and I. When I glance over at him his eyes are concentrated on the path before us. I get this feeling in my stomach that I made a mistake and let myself get too close— literally. A silent panic takes over me and keeps my mouth shut, not daring to break the silence save for a breath here and there.

"Jean."

His voice cuts through the quiet atmosphere with a fatal accuracy, halting me in my tracks a moment later. I turn to see him a few paces back. His eyes are no longer on the path in front of him. Now they avert to the side, a certain anxiety fleeting through his chestnut hues that even the darkness could not mask. Something about it calms the tension in my stomach.

"I, uh... Jean," he speaks again, unsteadily, his hand flying up to rest at his neck and rub at it in a nervous fashion.

"Yes, Marco?" I answer softly. My nerves are gone now, but his flare up at the sound of my voice. A smile on the verge of a smirk curls the corners of my lips at this as I close the distance between us. The tension I felt before is replaced with a new kind of tightness. "Come on, out with it."

He inhales audibly, eyes flicking down towards his feet momentarily before lifting them to meet my gaze. When his eyes meet mine, something stirs in them. They change right before me, from milk to dark chocolate. Too caught up, I fail to notice when his hands have rested on either side of my neck— or when he's drawn closer to me, hovering over me so that his breath mingles with mine.

_It smells like cherry and cocoa._

"Marco," I exhale, letting eyes close and head fall back, his hand moving almost instantly to cradle it as our lips collide. A shockwave hits me and sends a different kind of chill down my spine. His lips are soft— softer than I imagined, but they kiss hard. Passionate, full of determination. Our heads tilt in time with one another and he opens his mouth to let his tongue plead for entry.

_Yes... Take whatever you want, take everything._

His hunger surprises me when I let him in; my legs start to grow weak and fail me. As if on cue, his arms encircle my waist and steady me, pull me taut to his frame, leaving my arms only one route. They slide around his neck and I let him have his way with me, right there in the middle of the courtyard.

**—x—**

"Fuck."

Fuck is the only word I can utter. It's damn near the only one I can think. _Fuck_. I try to grasp for coherent thoughts.

When we returned Marco went straight to the bathroom. The knots in my stomach only tightened. They stir inside me still as I stare up at the ceiling above my bed. I can still feel the sensation on my lips, the arms that held me with such surety, the impossible heat inside a bitter, howling wind. We walked back to the dorm in complete silence afterwards, the shock of the moment still quaking at the tips of our tongues too much for commentary. That silence filled the room heavily, only disturbed by the relentless pounding in my chest until the bathroom door creaked open.

"Jean," his voices sounds, freezing me in my thoughts. I sit up almost instantly, swallowing hard and wetting my dry lips; he stands there in the middle of the room, bare chested and in his pajama pants. "Can I...?" He trails off, gaze off to the side as a pink tint roars to life across his features.

_He's never this bothered._

It makes me grin, the tightness in my abdomen subsiding slightly. I pull myself forward on my knees and tug him by his wrist, twisting him to sit on the edge, arms encircling his shoulders. His eyes are shut, the pink aglow under his freckles only growing more intense. "_Can you what?_" I prompt him, trapping him between my thighs. I feel the shiver it causes, see the goose bumps that have appeared on his shoulders and graze them with my lips. He swallows with great labor and takes a shaky breath, but I don't ease up; he tenses as I let my lips wander to the spot beneath his ear.

"S-sleep with... y-you, tonight," he manages to stutter out finally, his body seemingly going limp from the effort exerted in order to voice his query.

A chuckle falls dangerously from my lips.

"Of course."

**—x—**

The next morning was nothing short of a dream.

He fell asleep in my arms, but I woke in his. I've seen that slumbering face so many times in the past few months and yet it feels as if I've never truly seen it until now. A person seems so unguarded when in the throes of sleep no matter who they are; their vulnerability increases tenfold when they're next to you, their limbs caught up in yours. I have to shift to see that freckled face, away from my comfortable spot at his chest, but it's worth it. He doesn't even notice. His soft snores sound away, his features still as relaxed, peaceful. I watch him for what seems like an eternity, feeling as if I should look away but finding such an action impossible. As if looking away will make this dream fade away in a puff of smoke.

_If this is a dream, I don't want it to end._

He stirs in his sleep, turns on his side and places his arm over me unconsciously. I smile, unable to resist him anymore; my palm presses to his chest and slides upwards, up the side of his neck until my fingers slip into his locks with ease. He nuzzles into the action thoughtlessly, though he doesn't wake until I've pressed a kiss to his forehead. When I pull back and see his warm brown eyes staring up at me their heat infects my chest like an incurable virus. "Good morning."

"Mmh," he mumbles, his eyes closing again as a sleepy smile takes hold. "Morning."

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. That_ smile.

He startles from his sleepy state, eyes wide. "Sunday morning. Tomorrow's Monday, I have to study for—"

I halt his speech swiftly, catching his lips by force; his struggle lasts for the briefest of moments before realizing it's useless. He gives in, his entire body wordlessly handing itself over to me.

_One night and he already knows how this works._

I smirk.

"Study break, Marco."

**—x—**

**A/N:**

I enjoyed writing this more than I thought I would. Due to recent events I've grown to love Jean almost as much as Reiner and Levi. This one flew from my fingertips with ease, and maybe in the future I'll write a series to continue it, but I wrote this mostly because I'm a little stuck on _If You Ever Run_. And also because I'm finding myself violently riding multiple ships regarding SnK. Hence the birth of this (what I hope will come to be a vast) collection of short stories.

I'm nearly finished with the next one so stick around, yeah? ;*

**Song lyrics: **

**Backdraft by Thrice, The Alchemy Index (Volume 1: Fire)**


	2. The Lion And The Wolf (I)

**The Lion And The Wolf**

—**x—**

_And what a monstrous sight he makes,_

_Mocking man's best friend._

_When both the wolf and lion crave _

_The same thing in the end._

—**x—**

_Smack._

The sound echoes painfully through the warehouse over the sound of the crowd. The fist that caused the sound retreats only to fly right back; his knuckles miss the jaw they connected to before, instead meeting air. His shorter opponent panics in the moment, a small window of time but just big enough for the raven haired male to hit him hard in the sternum. Cries of their voyeurs grow louder at the impact, fighting the urge not to close the circle around the two in the midst of a spar. The man lands another blow, this time higher up, and side kick to his knee; he stumbles back into the onlookers but they only toss him back into the fray, earning him another solid kick beneath his chin. Blood pours from his mouth and spatters across the concrete floors as the unlucky man crawls onto all fours and coughs. The wolf-like eyes of his opponent narrow as he steps back, taunting him in his monotone voice, "Don't tell me that's all you've got. I'm not even bleeding yet."

The dirty blonde glares up at the boy before him. _What a fucking brat, he thinks, he's a full fucking foot under my height, I'll bash his brains in._ He stumbles back to his feet, ignoring his minor dizzy spell and launching himself forward to land another blow; the wolf before him steps to the side and sends him reeling into the crowd once more. It enrages him further, the man now seeing red and letting out something akin to a battle cry. His fist moves forward and lands, blood welling instantly at its target's lip. The boy shrugs it off and responds with a hard hitting slug of his own, followed by his other fist. The shock of it sends him back on his heels, head spinning from his blows and lights dancing in his eyes. Those wolf eyes narrow once more, and with a somewhat dramatic flare he kicks his leg upwards to connect with the blonde's jaw. The action rewards him with a sickening pop, following by a shriek of pain. His opponent meets those animalistic eyes once more before being sent into an unconscious slumber, courtesy of the boy's fist. "Pathetic," he mutters under his breath.

When he turns to face the rest of the circle no one dares to step forward. His previous seven opponents enough to scare the rest off. "Tch." The sea of rowdy men parts for him, a sudden wave of nervousness settling in as they do their best not to get in his way or provoke him until two more slip into the ring they've formed. Their yells sound once more by the time Levi's made it out of the crowd. His fingers slip into his pocket and retrieve a handkerchief to wipe the small bit of blood drawn from his mouth before carefully folding it so that the red stain disappears from sight, and slipping it back into place.

Tugging his jacket on, he departs from the warehouse, pausing to place a cigarette between his lips, cupping it from the chill of the wind to light it. He's barely taken his first drag before another man joins him, his voice cutting through the silence smoothly.

"Seven men. Seven men at least eight inches taller and outweighing you by at least forty pounds. And all of them knocked out." He comes into view— a blonde not surprisingly taller than Levi, features well defined with a body to bath beneath the well fitting clothes he wore. _Far too nice for a dump like this_, he thinks to himself. The man before him is not a regular and belongs to a world much more proper, but something about the look in his eyes and the power his build poorly conceals makes up for it. "Who are you?"

Levi stares at him for a minute, taking a long drag from his cigarette and letting it filter through his lips with a slow exhale moments later. He slides his free hand over the back of his neck and rubs at the spot already growing sore from a kick earlier, head tilting to the side. "You heard them chant my name." He turns away from ocean side view to walk back to the streets but the blonde's hand extends to stop him; Levi reacts before his hand makes contact, simultaneously sliding out of his grasp while pushing forward with his hand reaching towards the pale neck of his adversary, though the man surprises him and takes a firm hold on his wrist just before his fingers would have grasped flesh. It catches the raven haired male by surprise, the emotion flickering across his pitiless eyes.

"No, who are you, _really_?" This time his voice cuts the air with more force as he lets go of the boy's wrist— something precise, almost threatening with how much strength it held. "You tell me your story, I'll tell you mine." The look in his eyes is determined, fueled by a purpose.

For the briefest of moments Levi feels compelled to answer him, to know where his animal eyes came from.

"... Not interested, I don't do that kind of thing."

Amusement flashes through the blonde's eyes at his response and something about it bothers Levi. He turns before the curl in the man's lips form a smirk, resuming his walk home.

"We'll meet again," he calls out to the shorter man, watching him disappear onto the dark street ahead.

_Don't bet on it._

—**x—**

Later that night he showered. Levi sat beneath the spray for what felt like hours, trying to convince himself that all the blood, sweat, and dirt were gone. Despite his obsessive-compulsive need for cleanliness he always returned for the fights. The boredom of every day life seemed to vanish under the flickering florescent lights with every punch thrown. For others it only seemed to heat up their rage, but for Levi it cooled them, fed his anger until it was sated. The prowling wolf inside of him calmed then and only then.

_He has one too._

The thought popped into his head subconsciously, bringing forth the imagery of the blonde bathed in moonlight. His gaze pierced through the night and straight into Levi's, speaking of a nature that even the built frame beneath fitted clothes couldn't convey. They spoke of something dark, animal in nature but equally intelligent. It sent a shudder down his spine and brought along the compulsion to scrub at the wrist he'd held, the ghost of his hand lingering there and agitating his sense of cleanliness.

Three weeks passed and he didn't return. Something in the back of his mind kept him from going, made him focus on his day job and life at home. After the first week he bought a punching bag and hung it in the basement, somehow keeping the wolf inside at bay with his daily routine of work, chores, and work outs. As the days passed the memory of the blonde still crept into his thoughts. _That monster to match my own._ It invaded his thoughts when he stared at endless numbers on the screens at work, at a dirty surface in the kitchen, the red fabric of the punching bag. All his work to avoid that place, the chance that they might meet, seemed nearly pointless.

It all fell apart near the end of the fourth week.

Before him stood a shelf just a hair too tall. His fingers reached upwards to grab the bottle only to fall short by a couple inches. "Tch," sounded under his breath and he looked to both his sides but saw no one. He reached again, falling short once more.

"Here."

He froze, not daring to look back at the face he knew would be there, focusing intensely on his hand instead. _No, don't do that._ He let out an agitated breath and diverted his attention to the other end of the aisle, the blonde's ghost grip at his wrist once more. "Thanks," he muttered under his breath, watching from the corner of his eye as the man placed the item in his cart. His hand lingered; he felt his gaze pierce through him again, as if dissecting him right there on the spot. The feeling inspired a shiver and made him uncomfortable, but a part of him felt something else— a sliver of curiosity stirring his interest. That interest bit harder when he raised his eyes to meet his, a toxic mix of blue and green. "Rivaille," he spoke, voice monotone as ever but softer than usual.

"Irvin," the blonde replied without missing a beat, extending his right hand for Levi to shake. He swallowed, glancing down at the same hand that he couldn't get out of his head for the past month. He pushed past his revulsion and gripped the handsomely tan fingers extended towards him, surprised by their gentle strength. "I was starting to think I'd never run into you again." The smile on Irvin's lips brings about some sort of warmth, yet the look in his eyes is still intense, threatening something the shorter man can't quite put his finger on.

_He could easily eat me alive if he were a cat and I a mouse._

"Would it have mattered?"

The blonde shrugs in a nonchalant manner, his gaze momentarily straying. "Maybe not, but people like you are hard to find."

Questions flew through his mind at Irvin's words. _People like me? What kind of person am I? Why are you looking for them? _

_Who the fuck are you?_

"What do you want from me?"

That smile came back, some sort of emotion settling uneasily in his stomach as he averted his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it here," he murmurs, head gesturing to the other customers passing by. "But if you'll agree to meet me— just once," he adds rather quickly, seeing the disdain clear on Levi's features, "I promise to never speak to you again afterwards, if that's what you wish."

"Cafe Rose, ten o'clock, breakfast on you." He meets his eyes for a fleeting moment, seeing in them a deep satisfaction, as if the man already thinks that he's accomplished whatever goal he's set out to achieve. It puts a sour taste in his mouth; the idea that he's playing into another's hands isn't one he's at all accustomed to. _I'm the one in control here._ His fingers curl around the cart and push it forward, departing as gracefully as toting a shopping cart would allow.

"I look forward to it, Rivaille."

Something about the tone of his voice brings a rush of heat to Levi's cheeks, fingers gripping tight until his knuckles turn white.

That night, the sound of Irvin's voice stays with him, following him into the depths of sleep.

—**x—**

That morning, Irvin arrived a few minutes before ten. He sat in the furthest corner from the door, window nearby looking out onto the street alongside the small cafe, fingers curled around a ceramic cup filled with steaming black coffee. While he waited he wondered if the other man spent much time here, if this was one of his haunts during the day. The image of the dark haired man in this cafe seemed somehow strange to Irvin, though fitting in some manner. Meeting him twice was not enough for him to deduce any real information.

Twelve minutes past ten and Levi finally appears, slipping through the small crowd at the counter and weaving his way through the tables with ease to join the seated man. When he sits down he doesn't quite acknowledge the blonde just yet, eyes cast on the busy street outside. Even as a waitress comes by and wordlessly fills his coffee cup halfway he does not speak, nor does he give the woman any attention. Irvin sits back, amusement clear on his face. She places down a small silver pitcher before leaving, and only then does Levi take his eyes off the street. They graze over the handsome man before him before settling on his coffee; he's lifted the creamer and filled his cup to the brim, the dark liquid becoming a pale tan.

Levi's eyes flick upwards pointedly, his voice piercing the silence at their table. "Did you come just to observe my habits or do you have something important to talk about?" His fingers curled around the sugar and poured in a generous amount, which amused Irvin to some degree.

"Unh." The tall blonde rested his elbow against the table, letting his chin rest on the palm of his hand, giving the man before him a good look over: his clothes were casual, making him seem like just another ordinary cafe-goer, appearing young enough to be a college student, maybe even a senior in high school. "I apologize if I've inconvenienced you at all, but after coming across you this second time I couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Time is of the essence, actually, so I'll try not to waste another moment," he spoke rather formally, accompanying them with a charming smile that softened Levi— though the boy fought hard not to show it and Irvin could hardly discern it through that heavy facade of his.

"Well then?" he pressed on, irritated by the effect the man before him had. Even his warmth seemed infectious, though it was strange; Irvin didn't seem like the kind to be all too tender, there was a certain sharpness to the look in his eyes and the tension in his limbs that made him seem more of a threat than a comfort. His eyes fell towards the beverage before him to distract the look of the realization that flashed through his eyes, fingers grasping the rim to pull it towards his lips for a sip.

Irvin paused, not entirely sure where to start. "You and I have a few things in common, things inside of us we can't entirely control or ignore as others might their realities. There's a wolf inside of you, just as much as there is a lion in me." This brought back the attention of Levi's gaze, widened only by a hair. "I could tell from the moment I saw you fight, that night in the warehouse. The look on your face was not entirely human, though the others there may not have been astute enough to see that. I might have been able to sniff you out but you're clever enough to mask that."

Levi glanced towards the window, his smugness at being able to hide so well in plain sight curving the corner of his lips ever so slightly for a moment. "I guess I should give you credit for your aptitude as well," he murmured, lifting his cup to his lips once more. "But why is a cat searching for a dog?"

The look on Irvin's face grew grim, voicing growing softer to hide in the midst of the cafe's murmur; these words were for Levi's ears only. "You've heard about the murders. I work with the police and have seen them up close and personal; my colleagues can't make sense of it, their bodies are so mangled that they look like nothing but meat. They're utterly useless, and I can't exactly expose myself nor explain to them what did it without having them lose their shit."

"Why does it concern me?"

"Because the men I'm in charge of are incompetent due to their ignorance, I've been doing a little digging on my own, keeping in mind customs of the underworld of course. I've found out that the culprit is a wolf; I've told the Rex of my pride this, but he refuses to interfere with anything the wolves in the local pack may have been involved with. That's where you come in."

"You're shit out of luck," Levi interrupted, "I haven't joined the pack. I can't help you."

The blonde adjusted in his seat, taking a long sip from his coffee, a certain kind of smirk forming on his lips. "I figured as much, you have that lone wolf aura going on. That paired with your strength and the control you have over it is why I spoke to you. You have no relations or prior obligations to an ulfric or the pack life; you can act on your own free will, which will be essential to my plans if you decide to lend me your efforts." He paused again, bringing a finger to his lips in thought. "I realize that this may not matter to you but if this isn't pack business you'll be in danger, and I was hoping it would be enough for you to agree to help."

"If it's not their business, they'll be obligated to find out what rogue wolf has killed and risked exposing them, possibly as ravenous beasts that should be exterminated," Levi mumbled, half in thought at the proposition put before him, to which Irvin nodded in concession. "I'd be a prime suspect and I know by personal experience that the ulfric who reigns currently is not a kind man; he'd find any excuse to kill someone like me. Especially if it's me."

"Oh?" Irvin sat up from the slouching position he'd taken up sometime during their conversation, his attention newly caught by the boy's words and causing him to lean in. "That's a story I'd like to hear." Levi shot him a vexed look, the idea of them being close enough to swap such stories of their past brushing him in an uncomfortable manner, half in protest of the concept and half out of his delight to have someone to speak about such things with. His look only inspired another smirk-like expression on Irvin's face. "But," he continued, "we'll save that for another day. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other from here on out."

"Tch." The dark haired man crossed his arms, scowling somewhat. "I haven't given you an answer." His features softened some, a look of contemplation passing through his gaze that had wandered out towards the street beyond the window pane once more that kept Irvin silent and awaiting the man's verdict. _I have no obligation to this man or the police, or even the pack's bullshit and the public. This isn't my problem, why the fuck should I risk my life?_ He halted his thoughts for a moment, considering the fact that he may very well be at risk regardless, and that perhaps regard for the well being of others from time to time may not be all that bad; in fact, the idea of concern for others seemed a good way to remind himself that he was not entirely a filthy animal not capable of being human. This was something that had plagued his thoughts in recent years, a thought that scratched at his obsessive-compulsive need to be civilized in all matters.

When Levi spoke again, the man before him perked up, eager for a favorable response.

"I suppose just this once I could do something for someone other than myself." When he met Irvin's eyes again he could easily see the delight in them, the hunger for justice the person before him craved— that had led him to his very career as a man of the law. Though Levi could not match the same craving it appealed to his own desire for civility and order, and while he would refuse to admit it to himself a fondness for the man began to spark.

—**x—**

**A/N:**

This piece took a turn I wasn't expecting, but I ran with it simply because the more I thought of it the more awesome it seemed to me. It's heavily inspired by the universe in which Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter exists; after reading LKH's series I've adapted a view of the supernatural world that mirrors hers because it seems rather realistic and a practical way meshing such things with the real world. I figure since I've entered that realm that it's only fitting to give her credit, after having influenced my views so much.

That aside, this is something that, if I believed in my abilities to keep it alive, might thrive as its own series; I don't want to give myself that sort of obligation (since I already have such with If You Ever Run and am currently stuck on that). However, there will definitely be a second part, and possibly a third. But yeah, here you go kiddies, enjoy. 3

**Song lyrics: **

**The Lion And The Wolf by Thrice, The Alchemy Index (Volume IV: Earth)**


End file.
